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Boy Scouts on Sturgeon Island

<h1 id="id00008" style="margin-top: 9em">THE BOY SCOUTS ON STURGEON ISLAND</h1> Or Marooned Among the Game-Fish Poachers By Herbert Carter <h1 id="id00011" style="margin-top: 6em">CHAPTER I</h1> <h5 id="id00012">OUT FOR A ROYAL GOOD TIME</h5> "Will you do me a favor, Bumpus?" "Sure I will, Giraffe; what is it you want now?" "Then tell me who that is talking to our scoutmaster, Dr. Philander Hobbs; because, you know, I've just come in after a scout ahead, and first thing saw was a stranger among the patrol boys." "Oh! You mean that thin chap who came along in his buggy a bit ago, chasing after us all the way from that town where we had a bite of lunch? Why, I understand he's the son of the telegraph operator there. You know we made arrangements with him to try and get a message to us, if one came along." "Whew! then I hope he ain't fetched a message that'll spoil all our fun, just when we've got to the last leg of the journey, with the boat only a few miles further on! That'd be the limit Bumpus. You don't know anything about it, I reckon?" "Well, our scout-master looks kinder down in the mouth, and I'm afraid it must be some sort of a recall to duty for him," remarked a third lad, also wearing the khaki garments of a Boy Scout, as he joined the pair who were talking. "I'm afraid you're right, Davy," said the tall, angular fellow who seemed to own the queer name of Giraffe, though his long neck plainly proved why it had been given to him by his mates. "But don't it beat the Dutch how many times Doe Hobbs has had to give up a jolly trip, and hurry back home, just when the fun was going to begin, because the old doctor he works with needed him the worst kind?" "But say," spoke up the fat boy who answered to the designation of Bumpus, "mebbe the Cranford Troop, and the Silver Fox Patrol in particular, ain't lucky to have such a wide-awake, efficient assistant scout-master as our Thad Brewster, who knows more in a day about out-of-door things than Dr. Hobbs would in a year." "Yes, that's right," replied Giraffe; "but we're going to know what's in the wind now, because here's the scout-master heading this way, with several of the other boys tagging at his heels, and sure as you live they're grinning too. Looks to me like Stephen and Allan thought it a good joke, though they look solemn enough when Doc turns their way. He's just got to leave us, you mark my words, fellows." It turned out that very way. An urgent message had come that necessitated the immediate return of the scout-master. The old doctor with whom he practiced had been unlucky enough to fall, and break a leg; so it was absolutely essential that his assistant come back to look after the sick people of Cranford, hundreds of miles away. While the scout-master is getting his personal belongings together, and the six boys gathered around are trying to look terribly disappointed, it might be well to introduce the little party to such of our readers who have not had the pleasure of making their acquaintance in previous volumes of this series. The Cranford Troop of Boy Scouts now consisted of two full patrols, and a third was in process of forming. The original patrol was known as the Silver Fox, and the six scouts who were with Doctor Hobbs, away up here on the border of Lake Superior, bent on a cruise on the great fresh water sea, all belonged to that division of the troop, so that they are old friends to those who have perused any of the earlier books. Thad Brewster, whom Bumpus had spoken of so highly, was a bright, energetic lad, who had always delighted in investigating things connected with outdoor life. He had belonged to a troop before organizing the one at Cranford, and was well qualified for being made the assistant scoutmaster, having received his credentials from the New York Headquarters long ago. Allan Hollister, who would assume the responsibility should Thad be absent, was a boy who had spent quite a time in the Adirondacks before joining the scouts, and his knowledge was along practical lines. Then there was another fellow, rather a melancholy chap, who had a queer way of showing the whites of his eyes, and looking scared, at the least opportunity, only to make his chums laugh; for he would immediately afterwards grin—in school as a little fellow he had insisted that his name of Stephen should be pronounced as though it consisted of two syllables; and from that day to this he had come to be known as Step Hen Bingham. The other three boys were the ones who engaged in the little talk with which this story opens. Bumpus really had another name, though few people ever thought to call him by it; yet in the register at school he was marked down as Cornelius Jasper Hawtree; while the fellow who had that strange "rubber-neck" that he was so fond of stretching to its limit, was Conrad Stedman. Davy Jones, too, wag a remarkable character, as may be made evident before the last word is said in this story. He seemed to be as nimble as they make boys; and was forever doing what he called "stunts," daring any of his comrades to hang by their toes from the limb of a tree twenty feet from the ground; walking a tight-rope which he stretched across deep gully, and all sorts of other dangerous enterprises of that nature. Often he was called "Monkey," and no nick-name ever given by boy playmates fitted better than his. Once Davy had been a victim to fits, and on this account gained great consideration from his teachers at school, as well as from his comrades. But latterly there had arisen a suspicion that these "fits" that doubled him up so suddenly always seemed to come just when there was some hard work to be done; and once the suspicion that Davy was shamming broke in upon the rest, they shamed him into declaring himself radically cured. It was either that, or take a ducking every time he felt one of those spells coming on; so Davy always declared the camp air had effected a miracle in his case, and that he owed a great deal to his having joined the scouts. "Too bad, boys," said Dr. Hobbs, who was a mighty fine young man, and well liked by all the scouts in Cranford Troop, although they saw so little of him because his pressing duties called him away so often; "but I've got to go home on the first train. Doctor Green has a broken leg, and there's nobody to make the rounds among our sick people in Cranford. I never was more disappointed in my life, because we've fixed things for a glorious cruise up here on Old Superior." The boys assured him that they deeply sympathized with him, because they knew it would break their hearts to be deprived of their outing, now that they had come so far. "Fortunately," continued Dr. Hobbs, with a twinkle in his kindly eyes, "that isn't at all necessary; because all arrangements have been made, the boat is waiting only a few miles away, and you have an efficient assistant scout-master in this fine chap here, Thad Brewster, who will take charge while I'm away, as he has done on numerous other sad occasions." "Hurrah!" burst from Bumpus; "that's the kind of stuff we like to hear. Not that we won't miss you, Doctor, because you know boys from the ground up, and we all feel like you're an older brother to us; but we've been out with Thad so much, we're kinder used to his ways." "Well," continued the scout-master, with a long sigh, "I've got to hurry off if I expect to catch that afternoon train, and there's no other until morning; so good-bye, boys. Take good care of yourselves, and write to me as often as you can. I'll try and picture the jolly happenings of this Lake Superior cruise as I read your accounts of it." He squeezed the hand of every one of the six lively lads; and there was a huskiness in his voice as he bade them a last good-bye that told better than words how sorry he was to leave the merry bunch, just when they were almost, as Bumpus put it, "in sight of the Promised Water." So the vehicle passed from sight, and the last they saw of Doctor Hobbs was a hand waving his campaign hat to them just before a bend in the country road was reached. All of them now turned to Thad to see what his plan of campaign would be. "If it's just this way, fellows," he remarked, with one of his smiles that had made him the most popular boy in all Cranford, barring none; "we've got about three miles to hit it up before we reach the lake shore. Then we'll make camp and spend another night, which I hope will be our last ashore for some little time. Because, unless there's a hitch to the program, we ought to come on the landing where our boat is going to be in waiting, by ten o'clock to-morrow." "Hurrah!" cried Bumpus, who was already weary of "hiking" because his build made him less active than some of the other scouts, notably Davy and Giraffe. "Let's get a move on, then," suggested Step Hen. "I can see that poor old Giraffe here is nearly perishing for a little bite of supper." A rippling laugh ran around at this, for every one knew the failing of the long-legged scout, whose stowage capacity when it came time to eat had never as yet within the memory of any comrade been fully tested; for they always declared that his legs must be hollow, for otherwise it was a mystery where all the food he devoured went to, since he never seemed to get any stouter after a meal than he was before. The march was accordingly resumed, with Tad and Allan leading the van. The boys were going light, because they did not intend to do much camping on this trip, as it was expected that the boat would accommodate all of them with sleeping quarters. Each one had a blanket strapped to his back, and with this were a few necessities in the line cooking utensils and food. Most of their luggage had been sent on by another route, as had also their supplies. Doctor Hobbs had wished them to go to the landing where their boat was to meet them, by following this roundabout course, having had some reason of his own for visiting the country. His folks in Cranford owned considerable land in this vicinity, and it was said that there were out-croppings of valuable copper to be found upon it; which accounted for the young man's desire to make inquiries while up in this region. Joking and laughing, and even singing snatches of school songs, the boys of the Silver Fox Patrol tramped along the road that was to bring them to the shore of the lake by and by. It was about half-past four when they obtained their first glimpse of the apparently boundless body of water, said to be the largest fresh water sea in the whole world. Shortly afterwards they reached the shore and were looking almost in awe out upon the vast expanse of water, upon the bosom of which they anticipated making their home for some weeks during vacation time. "Here's the finest camp site you ever struck in your born days, fellers!" called out Giraffe, as he waved his arm around at the trees that grew close to the edge of the inland sea; and every one of the other five scouts agreed with him. They had made many camps in the last two years, for they had wandered far from the home town, down in Tennessee, up in Maine, and away out to the Rockies on one memorable occasion; but no better place to spend a night had ever greeted their eyes. It was soon a bustling scene, with a fire being started, and arrangements made to build a sort of lean-to shelter that would even shed rain in a pinch should a storm come upon them during the night they expected to spend here. Davy, as usual, was climbing trees, and spying into every hole he could find. When Monkey Jones had a chance to exercise his peculiar gifts like this present opportunity afforded him it was utterly out of the question to hold him in. And so he swung daringly from one limb to another, just for all the world like a squirrel, chattering at times in a way that Giraffe always declared left no doubt in his mind concerning Davy's having descended from the original tree-climbing tribe that sported tails. There was one very large tree close by, that is, large considering that in this section there were few that could boast a girth of more than a foot; but this one was really what Bumpus called a "whopper;" and Davy sported among the higher branches with all the delight of a child with a new toy; giving the others more than one thrill as he swooped this way and that with reckless abandon. But suddenly he sent out a shout that caused every fellow to take notice; and Bumpus actually turned pale with apprehension, as he vainly looked around for some sort of weapon with which to defend himself; because he always believed he must be a shining mark for any hungry wild beast, on account of his plumpness. "Oh!" shouted the boy in the tree, "a panther, fellers, a really true panther!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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